


Treatment

by KennatasticWrites



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Character Death, Chemotherapy, Depression, Embarrassed! Peter Parker, Embarrassment, Emotional, Fanfiction, Father Figures, Father figure! Tony Stark, Fever, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Grieving Peter Parker, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Iron Man - Freeform, Joel- Oc, Marvel - Freeform, My First Work in This Fandom, Negative Thoughts, Orginal Characters, Orphan! Peter Parker, Other, Panic Attacks, Pepper Potts - Freeform, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker self harms, Self-Harm, Sick Peter Parker, Spider Man - Freeform, Spider man Homcoming Peter Parker, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, Temporary Guardian! Tony Stark, Terminal Illness, Trigger Warnings, Updates every Sunday unless I'm busy, adding tags as we go, more tags to come, throwing up, treatment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2019-11-18 19:01:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18125207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KennatasticWrites/pseuds/KennatasticWrites
Summary: Peter Parker's aunt just died and he doesn't deal with grief well. Tony invited Peter to stay with him at the Stark's Tower and becomes Peters temporary guardian. During Peters time at the Tower, Tony takes him to Queens Hospital for a request from a terminally ill child to meet the one and only Iron Man. Afterwards, Peter begins to visit the child on his own and forms a friendship with him.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> RECOMMEND TO READ BEFORE CONTINUING-  
> WARNING: THIS STORY COULD TRIGGER YOU. The themes used in this story are: anxiety, panic attacks, depression, suicidal thoughts, self harm, and terminal illness. All of which I take very seriously, it is not a joke or something to romanticize. Mental and physical illness are used in this story to bring more light onto the themes previously mentioned while enjoying the story created for the fandom you love.  
> Feel free to stop reading at any time if you're triggered. If you need someone to talk to, here's a link for International Sucide Hotline Numbers- http://ibpf.org/resource/list-international-suicide-hotlines
> 
> Your mental health should always comes first.
> 
> Constructive criticism and comments are welcomed. Feedback is great and I enjoy reading your comments and recommendations to other readers in the fandom. Enjoy the story nerds and dorks.

**_“Show me a hero, and I'll write you a tragedy.” -Scott Fitzgerald_ **

 

**Chapter One-**

Trigger warning, this chapter contains: Throwing up, anxiety, and panic attacks. 

The day when Aunt May died, it was raining upon the city of New York. The drops were gently hitting upon the rooftop and the windows of the buildings in the city and onto Peter Parker who was sitting on the edge of a building in his Spider Man suit given to him by Tony Stark. He was staring down at the pedestrians and city traffic below, watching a mother hold her child's hand as they crossed the street. The child's blond, curly hair was bouncing with every step, Peter looked away from the child and to the grey sky above him. He felt his breathing begin to quicken as he felt the tears appear once again, not too long after his crying stopped. He felt emotionally drained but at the thought of  _ May dying _ ... 

His breathing shortened and he felt like he was suffocating, his chest rose and fell quickly as he hyperventilated. There was a lump in his throat as he swallowed and tears began falling down his cheeks, his shoulders shaking. His once calm breathing began to quicken and he forced himself to slowly breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth. 

_ Inhale....exhale…..inhale.....exhale….  _

He squeezed his eyes shut and let a shuddered breath escape his mouth as he leaned back and landed on the roof, his body splayed out upon the wet, cement ground. His hands were shaking as the rain drops gently hit him, almost like the drops were trying to urge him to get up, but he couldn’t. _Was she scared when she-?_ His breath caught in his throat at the thought. Warm tears fell out of the corner of his eyes, mixing with the rain. He listened to the city traffic below and heard Tony’s suit propellers nearby. Peter sat up as Tony landed next to him on the roof, he exited his suit and gave Peter a worried look. Peter trailed his eyes to the grey sky and closed them. He didn’t want to cry in front of Tony Stark, one of the coolest people alive to him. 

“I’ve been calling you,” Tony said, he heard the news from the radio in his work station at the tower. Since then he’s been calling and texting Peter until he finally decided to track his Spider Man suit. There was a three car pile up on Broadway, six people were dead and two were injured. Aunt May was one of the dead victims. Peter hitched his thumb over his shoulder to his backpack that was leaning against the door to get into the building. His phone was in his bag, buried underneath his casual clothes that he was wearing during school.

Tony looked at the soaking wet bag before looking back to Peter. He swallowed as Peter wrapped his arms around his knees, hugging his legs to his chest and looking down at his feet.

“You know what I was doing when she-” Peter couldn’t finish his sentence, he swallowed and stayed silent for a moment, trying to gather his courage to continue. “I was helping a kind, elderly lady cross the street,” He paused, taking a deep shuddering breath of air. “Three blocks over from that was a robbery I helped stop, cashier held at gunpoint by two men wearing the classic pantyhose over their faces,” He shook his head, “...it was exactly seven blocks away from the car pile up.  _ Seven _ .” Tony looked down at the teen, pressing his lips together. He took off his sunglasses and folded them before putting them in the pocket of his suit. 

Peter Parker, who was only a kid, was  _ hurting. _

“I had the feeling that something was wrong, y’know?” Peter continued, “Spider Sense and all...I thought it was the robbery or another surprise attack on New York, end of the world type of shit or- or something,” He stumbled over his words as Tony listened quietly. “But...it was Aunt May.” He finished, he didn’t look at Tony as the man  contemplated on what to do. For the first time, Tony wasn’t sure what to say. He usually would respond with sarcasm or something witty, but this young boy was hurting and he just lost his last living family member. 

_ Did Peter even realize that he was a orphan yet, or was he still processing his grief? _ Tony resisted the urge to put his hands into his slacks pockets and let this boy grieve alone; but, instead he walked the few feet between the two of them and placed his left hand onto Peters back. Tony was never good at being emotionally and physically supportive, he wasn’t raised in that aspect, it was more of being the best at everything else than caring for someone's feelings. His own father was more supportive towards the bottle in his hand rather than his own son's accomplishments.

Peter stiffened but only for a moment before a loud sob left his lips. The tears that he was trying to hide from the person he admired the most ran down his cheeks as another sob shook his body. He turned towards Tony and hugged his leg tightly, causing Tony to worry for a second if his leg was going to break from his hug but the worry disappeared as Tony crouched down and let Peter wrap his arms around his torso in a death grip hug. It was almost as if Peter was clinging to Tony in worry that he would disappear like everyone else in his life, like water in the palms of hands. Tony wrapped his arms around Peter and awkwardly patted his back as the boy cried into Tony's shoulder, snot and tears mixed together into his damp suit. The two of them sat on the rooftop, the rain pouring down onto them and soaking them to the bone until the sunset. 

**\---**

“Do you have a place to stay?” Tony asked after Peter changed out of the Spider Man suit and into his casual clothes he wore to school that day. The clothes were soaked through the bag but it didn’t matter to him, his aunt was dead, her body was cold and lifeless in some morgue waiting to be disposed of whether is by cremation or buried six feet underneath the earth.  _ I could've stopped it _ , Peter thought,  _ I could’ve picked up the elderly lady rather than let her walk across the street, I could’ve called the police while he stopped the robbery instead of after the robbery failed.  _ The guilt he felt was overwhelming him, his heart was racing from his anxiety and he felt nausea begin to creep up his stomach.  _ He let his aunt and the other five people die for fucksake. _

“Peter?” Tony said quietly, snapping Peter out of his thoughts. Peter zipped up his bag and swung it over his shoulder as he made himself think about his options rather than the guilt he felt. He could call Ned and tell him what happened, he would probably end up crashing at his place for a couple of days but the thought of telling someone that his last living relative died- He felt his heart drop at the realization of what he is now.  _ Oh my God, he’s a orphan. _

“Peter?” Tony repeated as he watched the color drain out of Peter's face. Peter swayed on his feet for a moment as he looked at the concerned expression on the older mans face. Peter felt acid creep up his stomach and into his throat which he desperately swallowed multiple times, trying to keep it down but eventually failed. The vomit splattered upon the roof as Peter bent over and held his stomach. He stood up straight, turning away from Tony and wiped the back of his hand against his mouth in disgust and embarrassment. His cheeks were flushed pink against his paleness of his skin and sweat mixed with rain drops on the surface of his flesh.

“No,” Peter finally replied, he felt hot in his wet clothes that clung to his body. “I don’t.” He finished. Tony stayed silent for a moment, trying to not be disgusted at the sight of seeing him throw up. 

“Okay,” Tony said, he walked towards Peter and placed his hand on his shoulder. “I’ll call Happy and he’ll pick us up.” He gently pushed Peter towards the only entrance to the apartment building on the roof and held open the door. Peter walked through and Tony followed him after letting the door shut behind them. Their footsteps echoed loudly in the enclosed space as they walked down the five flights of stairs, neither of them saying anything to one another. Once they reached the lobby, Tony sent his suit back to the tower and called Happy to pick the two of them up.

Peter slid down the wall in the lobby and leaned his back against it as he stared through the window. He watched people shield themselves from the rain by their arms or bags, if they didn’t have a umbrella, and run to whatever location they were going to. It always seemed like people were afraid of the rain, but Aunt May wasn’t, she enjoyed it actually.  _ But _ , Peter thought,  _ she won’t ever get to enjoy it again, just like she won’t get to enjoy her favorite movie or dinner. She won’t ever get to yell the lyrics to her favorite song at the top of her lungs again or watch Peter cross the stage at graduation. Aunt May is dead. She’s gone, and she’s never coming back.  _

Peter began to hyperventilate, he felt like he was underneath the building that the Vulture collapsed on him all those months ago. He could've swore he felt the rubble on top of him, digging into his skin as he sat on the floor. Panic rose through him as he gasped for air to fill his needy lungs. His eyes were wide as Tony looked at him with worry once again, he listened to the gasps coming from the young boy and quickly closed the few feet gap between them. Tony crouched in front of Peter and placed his hands on the boys shoulders.

“Breathe,” Tony said, recognizing that he was having a panic attack. “Peter, bud, you gotta breathe.” Tony watched as the boy continued to gasp for air, panic was in his eyes, Peter was unable to tell if air was entering his lungs or not which made him panic more. His chest rose and fell as his shaking hands grabbed onto his opposite arms as if it would steady him. His grip was tight on his on his arms, for sure causing bruises to form later. Black spots danced at the edge of his vision as his hearing made every noise sound like he was underwater. Oh God, he was suffocating. He gasped for air once more and looked in front of him at Tony and straight through the man.

“Kid?” Tony said, trying to get his attention. “Breathe, come on now.” And for a second, Tony thought Peter was coming around, the teen looked like he  _ saw _ him. Every single detail, and  _ understood  _ him without truly knowing anything about him; but, he was wrong. Peter blinked, his eyes rolling into the back of his head and his vision went dark. 

**\---**

When Peter's eyes opened, the first thing he saw was the cracked, dirty ceiling above him. He slowly turned his head and let out a groan as he noticed Tony was sitting on his knees next to him, he held Peters wrist in his hands and pressed two fingers against the inside of it. Peter took one look at the concerned expression on Tony's face before turning his head in the opposite direction. He squinted his eyes as he looked at the pair of sleek, black shoes a couple feet away from his face. He blinked before his eyes trailed up the legs and chest of the person, his eyebrows furrowed as he recognized that it was Happy. 

The look on his face was one of concern and sadness to which Peter closed his eyes from. He felt Tony press his fingers harder against the inside of his wrist, checking to see if his heart was at a normal rate. 

“Jesus, kid.” Tony said once he was done. He placed Peters hand down onto the floor before he standing up and stretching. “You almost gave me a heart attack.” Peter opened his eyes and sat up, feeling a bit dizzy from the movement. He squeezed his eyes shut as he felt nauseous again, the lights above him didn’t help one bit. 

“Is he okay?” Happy asked his boss, which kind of irritated Peter. He was right there in front of him, he could answer for himself. Peter opened his mouth to reply, a sarcastic and a bit angry comment on his mind; but instead, he threw up directly onto Happy’s shoes. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates every Sunday unless I’m busy. 
> 
> Trigger Warnings, this chapter contains: Depression, suicidal thoughts, guilt, and mentions of throwing up.

Peter leaned his head against the window of the back passenger seat and watched the scenery as they drove by, his bag was between his feet. Tony sat on the opposite side of the car and would occasionally look over at the young boy, expecting him to talk with slightly awkward excitement until he remembered what he went through today. Happy flicked his eyes into the rear view mirror and looked worriedly at Peter with slight bitterness in his eyes due to the young boy throwing up onto his shoes not too long ago. He had to wash them off with the apartments hose outside, his feet were wet still. Happy couldn’t help but gag some at the memory as he returned his attention to the road. 

Tony quietly looked out the window next to him,  _ the boy probably needs some space, _ he thought, still anticipating Peter saying something. As he waited, he watched several cars head into the opposite direction they were going, their headlights flickering on because of the sun setting. While at a stoplight, he watched as some people were walking along the sidewalk and laughing at something before the light turned green and they continued driving by.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter said quietly, Tony turned his head and looked at the young teen. Peter was still leaning his head against the window, not bothering to look at Tony as he spoke. “I’m an orphan.” He stated quietly, Tony had to strain his ears to listen, he let out a small sigh and nodded. Peter opened his mouth before closing it and opening it again, deciding on whether or not to say his thoughts. “I’m going to need to talk to a social worker…” He trailed off causing Tony to think he was done. The man opened his mouth to say something but got cut off as Peter continued.

“I’m going to go into the system.” Peter whispered, his breath hitched in his throat as tears began to well up in his eyes. Tony was silent as he thought of something to say, but nothing seemed to be good enough, he was never good comforting people. Instead of saying something hopefully reassuring, Tony scooted over into the middle seat and wrapped his arm around Peters shoulder, pulling the distressed and sad teen into his side. Peter couldn’t help but be surprised at this for a moment before he relaxed, he buried his face into Tony's expensive suit. The smell of cologne filled Peters nostrils as Tony ran his hand up and down Peters arm in a attempt to be comforting.

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow.” Tony said quietly, Peter sniffled into the suit before Tony pulled away and Peter wiped the tears off of his cheeks and nodded. Tony scooted back into his own seat, feeling a bit awkward from the side hug. They were silent the rest of the way to the tower, Peter leaned his head against the window once again and stared out of it. Not too long after Tony tried to comfort Peter, Happy pulled into the Stark's Tower garage and parked the car. 

“Anything else, boss?” Happy asked, looking into the rear view mirror. Tony shook his head and Happy exited the car, opening Tonys door and waiting for the two males to exit the vehicle. Tony and Peter slid across the black, leather seats and got out of the vehicle, Peter was clutching onto his bag tightly. As a thanks, the teen attempted to give Happy a smile, which turned out more like a grimace, before he followed Tony to the elevator. The doors were already as they approached the metal box. Upon entering the elevator they were greeted by a electronic voice. 

“Good evening, Mr. Stark and Peter Parker what floor would you like to go to?” F.R.I.D.A.Y asked, as the elevator doors closed, Peter looked down at the metal floor liked it was the most interesting thing in the world. He sniffled and Tony pretended not to hear it.

“Floor Ninety-three.” Tony said, as F.R.I.D.A.Y complied. The two males were silent as they waited to reach the requested floor. Another sniffle was heard in the silence as Peter still kept his gaze on the floor and Tony stared at the doors.  _ I should say something _ , Tony thought, he glanced at the numbers rising before returning his sight back to the doors. It wasn’t until they were in the sixties when Tony said, “How are you doing, kid?” Peter sniffled again as he thought carefully about his answer.  _ Should he be truthful or lie?  _

“I’m…” He trailed off and slowly looked up from the floor and towards the door. “...I’m okay.” He nodded as if he was trying to reassure himself that he was what he said he was. Tony was quiet for a moment, not believing one thing this kid was saying. 

“Okay.” Tony said, not wanting to push it any further, he was horrible with this type of stuff; maybe he can get Pepper to talk to the kid. The elevator stopped on the requested floor and the doors opened, Peter followed Tony out and swung his bag over his shoulder as they passed several rooms with closed doors before stopping at the end of the hall in front of a brown door. Tony turned the metal knob and pushed it open. The first thing Peter saw was the tan curtains between the sliver shined moonlight. Peter’s eyes trailed to the desk not too far from it, a small box with red gift wrap and a matching bow sat upon the surface. 

Stepping into the white painted room, Peter saw the queen sized bed against the far side of the wall, a dark blue bed set. A night stand was on both sides of the bed and not too far from it was a closet with the door ajar. About six feet away from the closet was another door that was open which lead into a bathroom. Tony walked to the desk and picked up the gift box, he slowly turned towards Peter. 

“This was supposed to be your present for coming onto the Avengers team.” Tony said, he placed it back onto the desk as Peter dropped his bag next to the door. “You can open it whenever you’re ready…” He trailed off as Peter silently looked around the room. “...I’ll leave you to get settled.” He said and walked past Peter, gently closing the door behind him. Peter crouched down and opened his bag, taking out his phone and walked towards the bed. He placed the electronic device onto the nightstand before he kicked off his shoes. He pulled back the covers and got underneath them, pulling them up underneath his chin and laying on his side, his back to the door. 

“Friday,” He whispered. “Turn off the lights, please.” The lights switched off and his eyes adjusted to the darkness. As he waited for sleep to come, he stared at the wall across from him

**_\---_ **

People always mistake sadness as depression or anxiety as a panic attack. The difference between sadness and depression was that one felt temporary, you’re aware that the sun was going to shine down on you once again, while the other wasn’t like that at all. Depression feels like the sun wasn’t ever going to appear, it feels like you’re stuck in a web and you know the more you struggle to escape, the more difficult it is to get out, so why  _ try _ in the first place? What was the point of doing anything? What was the point of eating? What was the point of sleeping? What was the point of staying awake? What was the point of showering? What was the point of  _ breathing _ ? 

Sadness is being sad for a day and knowing that the next is going to be better. Depression feels like it lasts a lifetime, you don’t know if, or when, it’s going to end.  _ How is it going to end? _ Superheros were suppose to be able to do anything. Jump off cliffs without a second thought, quickly disarm enemies of their weapons, throw a good right hook punch if needed, and save the world at the end of the day. Superheros were supposed to take names and kick ass, they were supposed to be invincible against the world. But, the boy who was the friendly neighborhood Spider-man, wasn’t that. He couldn’t get out of bed. 

He’s been in this position since he arrived at the tower last night. The covers were pulled up over his shoulders and tucked underneath his chin. His eyes never left the wall across the room, not even when Tony tried to talk to him a few minutes ago and left with a promise to come back shortly; or when he waited for the sleep he needed that never came. He hasn’t even changed out of his clothes from yesterday, the shirt, pants, and socks were still damp. He hasn’t even replied to the missed calls and worried texts from Ned, his phone was on the nightstand next to him. Tony knocked on the door, waiting a minute for Peter to welcome into the room but after not hearing a reply, he entered anyways. Peter closed his eyes willing for sleep to come, but it didn’t, he felt so mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted. 

_ Please, just let me sleep _ , he thought as he listened to Tony walk across the room and stop a few feet away. Peter’s eyes opened and he was back to staring at the wall. 

“Friday, turn on the lights to fifty percent.” Tony said.

“Yes, boss.” Friday replied, doing as it was told. Tony looked down at Peter who was still staring at the wall as he left him not too long ago. With a sigh, Tony walked the few feet between them and placed the back of his hand against the kids cheeks, Peter felt too warm for normal temperature. 

“Friday, what is Peter’s temperature?” Tony asked, he pulled his hand away from Peters cheek as Friday replied. 

“One-hundred and two point one degrees.” Friday said, “Would you like me to call Doctor Banner?” Tony shook his head. 

“No,” He stated, pausing for a moment as he looked at Peter and scrunched his eyebrows together. He noticed the bags underneath his eyes and the tired, sad expression upon the kids face. “Peter, have you slept at all?” He asked with a bit of disbelief. 

“No, Mr. Stark.” Peter said, for the first time since he laid down upon the bed, he rolled over onto his back. The movement caused him squeeze his eyes shut from the nasusa and the dizziness.  _ Oh god, I’m going to be sick _ , he thought as he made himself hold it down. What the hell is he going to throw up? He hasn’t ate anything within the past sixteen hours. Tony disappeared from the room for a few minutes before coming back with a glass of water, toast, and medicine. He placed all three items on the nightstand, glancing at the phone that lit up as a ding came from the device for a couple of seconds before going back to a black screen. 

“How are you feeling?” Tony asked, he trailed his eyes to the young boy. Peter shrugged, letting out a yawn as he does so. Tony looked down at his shoes, contemplating on what to say next. The kid was hurting, he knew that from his own experience, so sometime he was going to need to open up about his feelings rather than bottling up inside. He cared about the kid enough to not let him bottle everything up. He swallowed as he said, “Do you want to talk about it?” It was out of character for him to say something like that, to worry directly towards the boy. 

Peter shook his head causing himself to become more dizzy and nauseous. 

“You’re going to have to talk about it sometime.” Tony said quietly, to which Peter was already fully aware that he was going to have to talk about it to someone. Tony handed him the piece of toast off of the nightstand. “Eat this, it will help keep down the medicine.” Peter looked between the bread and Tony, silently debating on taking it, the thought of moving more than he had already began to give him a migraine.  _ What was the point of taking it? _ He thought.

Tony raised his brows at the teen as if he was daring to even think of not taking the piece of bread. Peter sat up, resting his back against the headboard and took the food from Tony.  _ Everyone dies anyways _ , his thoughts continued. He swallowed dryly as Tony continued to raise his eyebrows towards him.  _ The only reason of eating this bread would be allow him to hold down the medicine a bit easier. _ He looked at the slightly burnt piece of toast. 

_ Taking the medicine would make him feel physically better _ . He took a bite and chewed, Tony lowered his brows and instead crossed his arms over his chest, watching as Peter consumed the food. He opened the fever reducer pill bottle and handed two red pills to Peter before putting the cap on the bottle and handing him the glass of water. Peter placed the pills in his mouth and swallowed the liquid before handing the empty glass to Tony. 

“Now that wasn’t so hard was it?” Tony said, he walked towards the door as Peter laid back down. Once Tony reached the door, empty glass in hand, he said, “Friday turn off the lights.” The lights switched off and the two of them were in the dark. The sunlight from the crack in the curtains was the only source of illumination in the room. “Get some rest Peter.” Tony stated, he opened the door, walking through, and closed it behind him with a quiet click. Peter stared at the ceiling above him and felt tears begin to trail out of the corners of his eyes.

He hasn’t slept for over twenty four hours, he felt too guilty and sad to be able to close his eyes and relax. Peter let out a small whimper as the thoughts rushed in once again.  _ He shouldn’t sleep. Aunt May is dead, Aunt May is dead, Aunt May is dead, Aunt May is dead. She’s going to be sleeping forever, he shouldn’t sleep, she’s going be underground or- or cremated, he doesn’t deserve to sleep _ . He felt a sob beginning to form in his throat, he quickly grabbed the pillow next to him and buried his face in it, hugging it tightly.

_ Aunt May is dead. He could’ve saved her, he could’ve saved her. _ The sob escapes his mouth and he muffles himself with his pillow.  _ He could’ve saved her and those five other people. Oh god...he killed them, he killed her, he killed Aunt May.  _ Peter clutched the pillow tighter, his hands going white by the grip and cried into it loudly. He eventually fell asleep.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added self harm to the tags and added it to the warning in the first chapter. You have been warned, if you’re triggered and need someone to talk to, heres a link for International Sucide Hotline Numbers- http://ibpf.org/resource/list-international-suicide-hotlines. Feel free to stop any time, your mental health should always come first. 
> 
> Trigger Warning, this chapter contains: Guilt, depression, negative thoughts, a form of self harm, and sickness.

“You need to get out of bed, Peter.” Tony said as Friday opened the curtains. The moonlight that flooded the room caused Peter to groan in response and squeeze his eyes shut, the light strained his eyes. It’s been three days since Aunt May died and throughout those three days, Peter hasn’t got out of bed. The bowl of chicken noodle soup and a some saltine crackers on a small plate sat untouched on the nightstand next to the bed. Tony brought the food up to him the previous night for dinner, just like he has done for every meal and it was the same result on each one, uneaten and untouched.

Slowly, Peter blinked and stared at the man with tired, bloodshot eyes before trailing his sight over to the wall and coughing into the pillow. His fever hasn’t gone away or went down and he felt like crap because of it, but he refused to eat to get his strength back and recover quicker because-  _ because Aunt May is dead and she's not breathing because of him. He shouldn’t feel better because he killed his aunt, he doesn’t deserve to feel better. _

“No.” Peter said hoarsely, it’s been awhile since he drunk any water and used his voice. Sweat that was caused by the fever, covered his body, clothes, and the sheets upon the bed he laid in. He really needed a shower, his hair felt and looked greasy and he smelled as bad as he felt. Tony crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to budge from the spot he stood in as he looked at the teen with a worried features. It’s always been worry and concern lately that Peter has been receiving from people; and he couldn’t help but feel like he doesn’t deserve it.

Ned has called and texted him multiple times, Friday asked him a couple of times if he was alright to which he didn’t respond, and Pepper had peeked her head into the room one time after hearing news of what happened from Tony. She tried to strike up a conversation and failed after he didn’t answer her at all. Worry and sad looks from everyone who tried to talk to him has been cast in his direction so much he swore he became immune to them. _ Being weak, physically, mentally, and emotionally is not part of the job of being a hero. He has to be fine and even if he wasn’t, he has to pretend that he is. _

_ Because then he might be able to convince himself he truly is fine and no one should worry about him because he’s fine and they don’t have a reason to worry; and once they are convinced, they’ll move on with their lives, and maybe, just maybe, they’ll forget about him. And when that happens, when the world moves on and forgets about him, he’ll no longer be a burden to this world. But for now, convincing himself and others he’s fine will have to do. Whatever it takes. _

Peter shuffled his eyes back to Tony once he realized the man hasn’t left yet. This was something different from the usual routine of listening to the man try to talk to Peter after he tried to give Peter some medicine, which Peter would refuse. Tony would then leave with the bowl full of uneaten soup from the previous meal and come back three to four hours later and try again. Another slow blink was sent in the direction of Tony who stared at him without speaking, trying to think of the best way to approach the grieving boy. He bit the inside of his cheek in thought before nodding to himself a small bit, taking a couple steps forward, he crouched and stared at Peter in silence. 

“How are you?” Tony asked in a whisper after observing the young boy, Peter blinked in response. His throat felt itchy and his body felt like it was on fire and freezing at the same time. He had a migraine beginning to form and his nose was starting to get stuffy. “I worry about you, kid.” Tony continued after Peter didn’t reply. “I want you to get better, right now you’re obviously not doing good,” Peter thought of opening his mouth to try to convince Tony otherwise but currently he didn’t have the mental strength to do so. “And I know you don’t want to talk right now because…” He trailed off and looked down at the floor for a moment, swallowing before he continued. “Because you’re grieving, and I know what's that’s like, I lost my own parents. So, uh, my point is, I hope you know you're not alone.” As cheesy as that sounds coming from Tony Stark, master of talking about emotions, sarcasm intended, it was something that Peter needed to hear. At least, Tony thought so.

“So, let’s take small baby steps if it helps you get better,” Tony continued. “Starting with eating and taking the medicine.” Peter blinked and slowly nodded, getting dizzy from the movement.  _ Whatever it takes, right? Maybe once Tony sees that he's physically better, he’ll fall for it and leave him alone. _ But yet, there was a small voice that whispered in the back of his mind that made him feel worse. _ You killed Aunt May and those five other people, you don’t deserve it _ . Tony sighed in relief at Peters agreement as he stood up and walked around the bed collecting the cold bowl of soup off of the nightstand. “I’m going to go down to the kitchen to heat this up, I’ll be back in a few.” Tony said, he couldn’t help but let a small smile spread across his face before leaving the bedroom.  _ He doesn’t deserve to feel better, he deserves to suffer for the deaths he caused. _

Peter squeezed his eyes shut as his head pounded from the migraine, he heaved a breath of air and pushed himself up into a sitting position, resting his back against the headboard. His body ached from the movement and his head pounded more, he opened his eyes and groaned from the natural moonlight that still strained his eyes. He’s been laying in darkness since he arrived and somewhat settled in this room three days ago, so of course he’s going to have to get used to the light again. Bringing his left hand up to his temple, he massaged it as his tongue darted out of his mouth and wet his chapped lips. He took a deep breath of air, held it, and released a shuddering breath, his shoulders beginning to shake.

Another breath of air filled his lungs and he held it, trying to hold back the sobs building up in his chest.  _ You’re fine _ , he thought, trying to convince himself that he was, indeed, fine.  _ You’re fine. _ He released the shuddering breath and pressed his lips together to keep the sob contained.  _ You need to stop this before Tony comes back _ , he thought, swearing he could hear footsteps approaching. He panicked for a moment as he tried to think of a way he could stop the sobs from escaping his mouth and instead focus on something else. Glancing down at his jean covered thigh, he pinched it tightly. His fingernails caused a dent in the skin and from the amount of strength he was using in the pinch a bruise was definitely going to form in the next couple of hours or so; but, because of his healing abilities, the bruise was probably already healing. 

The pain from the pinch caused him to focus on it than his emotions as Tony opened the door with a bowl of soup and a glass of water with a straw occupying his hands. The man looked at Peter with relief upon his face as he walked deeper into the room. The door gently closed behind him as he approached the teen, steam rose from the bowl which he placed on the nightstand along with the water before looking at Peter.

“Glad to see you up, kid.” Tony said, his voice hurt Peters sensitive ears which caused him to wince from the noise and not respond to him. Tony sat on the edge of the bed closest to Peter and placed the back of his hand against the teens head. “Friday, what’s Peter’s temperature?” 

“Peter’s temperature is one-hundred and two point four degrees,” Friday answered, “If it  gets up to one-hundred and four degrees, would you like me to call Doctor Banner?” Tony bit the inside of his cheek in thought before shaking his head. 

“No, we’ll deal with it if it comes to it.” Tony said, he removed his hand from Peters forehead and replaced the spot with a cold rag. A sigh of relief escaped Peter as he felt the coldness against his hot, sweaty skin. “Alright, bud, you gotta eat now.” Peter winced as he felt pain pound against his skull, his migraine still hasn’t left yet. His tongue wet his lips once more and Tony handed him the glass of water. Peter grasped the cup and took a long drink from the straw before placing it back onto the nightstand and taking the bowl full of soup. He gently blew onto the spoonful of food and Tony watched him as he put the food into his mouth and swallowed. Tony's tense shoulders relaxed as more relief spread through his body, he didn’t want to fight the kid to eat. Peter paused in scooping another spoonful as guilty thoughts clouded his mind.

_ You shouldn’t eat, _ a whispered in the back of his mind,  _ Aunt May and those five other people are dead because of you. They should be breathing instead of you. You’re a burden to everyone around you, you call yourself a hero and you couldn’t even save Uncle Ben and Aunt May.  _

“Mr. Stark?” Peter said quietly, if Tony was spacing off instead of listening he wouldn’t have heard the kid due to how quiet he said his name. Tony raised an eyebrow in Peters direction and waited for the teen to continue. “I’m sorry.” He said, Tony gave him a confused look, his eyebrows scrunching together. 

“Excuse me?” Tony said,  _ why was the kid apologizing? _

“I’m sorry,” Peter said a bit louder this time. He looked down at the bowl of soup and stirred it with his spoon. “I’m sorry...t-that I’m a burden.” Tony felt his heart drop in his chest at that sentence, the blood flushed from his face leaving him a sickly pale like Peter currently was.  _ Where the hell did the kid get the idea that he was a burden from?  _

“Peter,” Tony said, his voice the most gentlest Peter has ever heard from him. The boy slowly looked up from his meal with tears brimming in his eyes. “Where did you get the conclusion that you’re a burden?” Peter bit his bottom lip and slowly moved his left hand away from the bowl and onto his thigh, Tony didn’t notice the movement as Peter pinched his leg as tight as he could.  _ You already fucked up convincing everyone you’re fine, you fuck everything up. _ He held his breath as he concentrated on not wincing from the pain. Slowly he exhaled and he eased his pinch, slowly he moved his hand back to the bowl.

“I..” Peter trailed off, he took another breath of air and focused for a moment on the dull pain coming from the area he pinched his thigh. Upon releasing his breath, his chest deflated and Tony took that as a sign of him trying to keep his composure. “I just..I think-” Peter tried to start again and Tony began to get impatient. 

“Yes?” Tony said as Peter opened and closed his mouth a few times. Tony pressed his lips together and Peter swallowed, his hands tightened around the bowl from the anxiety he felt running through him. His heart pounded against his chest as much as his head hurt.

“I-I think I’m a burden because...” He trailed off once again and he couldn’t help but consider not telling Tony what he was thinking; but, he knew Tony wouldn’t let it go and make him continue no matter what. Tony slightly leaned his head towards the boy in anticipation. “...Because- because you just took me in and I’m sick, and I worried you a-and now you have to deal with me.” Peter said, his thoughts running out of his mouth. He didn’t add on the part about the deaths of Aunt May and those five other people being his fault. _God, you don’t even know their names_ , Peter realized feeling his heart drop. _You don’t know the names of the people you killed._ _You’re so selfish._

“Peter...” Tony said softly, tears trailed down Peters cheeks. “You’re not a burden.” Tony said, it almost sounded to Peter like the man was promising him. Tony wasn’t sure how to reassure someone in anything without telling his honest opinion or thoughts on it, Peter knew that, he knew Tony was telling the truth; and so the sob that Peter was trying to hold back earlier escaped. He sobbed loudly and uncontrollably, his shoulders shaking and chest heaving quickly. 

“I’m fine.” Peter managed to say in between sobs,  _ was he really trying to convince Tony that he was what he said he was? _ “I’m fine.” Tony gently took the bowl of soup out of Peters hand and placed it on the nightstand so it wouldn’t get spilled onto the sheets as Peter cried. He gasped for air in between his cries and Tony scooted closer to him, he placed his hands onto Peters arm as a gesture of comfort.  _ God, he wasn’t good at this stuff, _ Tony couldn’t help but think. Tony swallowed as he thought of what his father didn’t do for him when he needed him the most. 

“No,” Tony said, refusing to believe in Peter's words. He pulled the boy closer and awkwardly gave him a hug. Peter shook in Tony's arms as he wailed for all the pain he has went through over the last few days. Tony would be lying if he didn’t feel his heart hurt for the kid. “No, you’re not fine.” Tony finished. Peter cried into Tony's suit, clutching onto him like he did with the pillow the first night he arrived. His body shook and Tony held onto him as Peter cried. The grief that wrapped around him like a blanket and smothered him in the process he let go of and he felt so guilty about doing so.

“Mr. Stark.” Peter said, he pulled away from Tony and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry, I ruined your suit.” He looked at the stain of tears and snot on the expensive suit. 

“It’s okay, kid.” Tony said, he reached for the bowl of soup and handed it to Peter. “Eat and then take your medicine afterwards.” He stood up and walked towards the door, his shoulders felt tense. His hand gripped the knob of the door, his back to the teen and said, “I expect it to be gone by the time I get back.” He opened the door and shut it behind him with a gentle click. A sigh left his mouth as he leaned his back against the door and closed his eyes.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was published: 3/31/19  
> Trigger Warnings, this chapter contains: Anxiety, guilt, and self harm

Within twelve hours and thirty two minutes, four different rags used to cool down, two separate buckets used for throwing up in and cleaned before being disposed of, and one bed sheet change later, Peters fever was gone. Tony pulled his hand away from Peters forehead, a sigh of relief escaped his mouth as the teen groaned. The smell of body odor and vomit was still lingering in the room, Tony pushed himself up from the edge of the bed and stood up. Slowly, Peter sat up and rubbed his eyes, a yawn was soon followed after the groan, despite sleeping for most of the night and day, he still felt tired. 

“You need to shower,” Tony said, pulling his grey shirt above his nose, trying to block some of the stench. Peter nodded in agreement, his nose wrinkling as he pushed the covers off of his body and stood up. He stretched, his arms raising above his head as Tony walked to the bathroom connected to the bedroom and switched on the light. “Shower, clean up before heading down to the common room. You and I have somethings to talk about.” Tony stated, he turned around and shot the teen a grimace. Immediately, anxiety hit Peter like a bus.  _ What do they have to talk about? _ Peter thought, his heart pounding against his chest, color drained from his face that Tony failed to notice.

“Okay, Mr. Stark.” Peter said, nodding and Tony left the room, the door closing behind him. Peter looked around the room, the feeling of anxiety was like a pit in his stomach, his hands were shaking and he willed himself to take the few steps to the closet, take a outfit off of the hangers and go to the bathroom. A trembling breath of air left his mouth as he walked to the closet door and opened it, the lights automatically turned on thanks to Friday. The clothes upon the hangers were made with fine and expensive material, Peters eyes widen and his cheeks that were just gaining back a bit of color flushed from the generosity Mr. Stark has directed towards him. The billionaire has given him a place to stay, took him in when Aunt May died, fed him, took care of him during his sickness, to some, Mr. Stark may not have the biggest heart but to Peter, he did.

Peter reached out a hand and rubbed the silk shirt between his fingers.  _ Too expensive, _ he thought,  _ it’s too nice for me to wear. How much does this even cost? Hundreds? Thousands? _ His mind raced as he pulled his hand away from the clothing,  _ It would be rude of me not to accept the clothing Mr. Stark bought for me... But, it’s too nice, I’ll corrupt it by wearing it, I’ll get it dirty or tear a hole in it. _ His tongue darted out of his mouth to wet his chapped lips as he contemplated on whether or not to wear the clothing or not. He stepped away from the item and turned around, walking out of the closet. The lights switched off behind him before he closed the door and walked to the bathroom. 

**\---**

After taking a shower, drying off and getting dressed back into jeans and shirt he wore when he arrived not too long ago. He walked out of the room and down the hall. His eyes scanned his surroundings. The line of doors leading to different rooms were closed and the hall was quiet, nobody besides himself was in the hallway. Once he reached the metal doors of the elevator, they opened and Peter entered the box. 

“What floor do you want to go to, Peter?” Friday asked, Peter looked at the buttons for each floor, searching for the floor level that had the title of Common room. 

“Um,” Peter said, his eyes still scanning the floors. “Common room, please.” He said after giving up. The elevator smoothly went down and stopped after a couple minutes of silence, the doors opened and Peter walked out of the box. He looked around the room, a long white couch with a few grey throw pillows were placed onto the couch. A throw cover was folded neatly sat on the back of the furniture and across the room was a fake, but expensive looking, fireplace. A stack of magazines with Tonys and the Avengers face sat neatly in a pile on top of a glass coffee table in front of the couch. Across from the large piece of seating was a flat screen television built into the wall. Peters head moved to the right and he saw Tony sitting in a dark blue armchair, his legs crossed and two steaming cups of coffee in ceramic cup sat upon the glass table next to him. 

He gestured to the seat on the opposite side of him and Peter walked to it, carefully sitting on the edge of the furniture so he wouldn't damage it. Tony noticed the kid wearing the same clothes he’s been in for the last few days, he could still smell the sweat wafting from the clothing. A frown was on his face as Peter stood up and gave Tony a embarrassed look. Something was wrong.

“What’s up, kid?” Tony asked, the frown was still on his face. Peter looked down at his dirty shoes on the clean, white carpet. His nose caught the smell of sweat coming from his clothes and wrinkled his nose, his pants and shirt were still damp from it. Peters eyes trailed over to the armchair and he frowned, guilt, embarrassment, and anxiety were the top three emotions he felt currently and it was almost like he was drowning in them. Tony's eyes followed Peters sight to the chair and his frown deepened, he saw the dark spot of sweat on the cushion. 

“I..” Peter said, his voice quiet and shy. His cheeks were now red and his eyes looked like a kicked puppys. “I’m sorry for ruining your furniture, Mr. Stark.” Tony stood up, waving it off with his hand. 

“It’s okay,” Tony said, “I’ll call the maid to clean it up later.” He paused, taking a drink of his caffeinated beverage and set it back down onto the table. A question was resting on his mind and it was one he wanted and answer to. “Why are you still in your dirty clothes?” Peter bit the inside of his cheek and looked away,  _ how am I going to explain to Tony that I don’t feel comfortable wearing the clothing he bought for me? _

“Um,” Peter said, he crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t feel…” He trailed off, trying to piece together his thoughts and feelings. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings Mr. Stark, but, I don’t feel comfortable wearing the clothing you bought for me.” He said it quietly, looking down at his shoes with shameful, embarrassed, red cheeks. Tony held back a sigh and nodded. 

“Okay,” He said, Peter slowly looked up from his feet and to the man. “Hopefully we can work on that.” Peter titled his head to the side, slightly confused and curious at his statement. “So,” Tony says, switching topics. His brown eyes stare at Peter and watches the teen shuffle from side to side. Peters arms were behind his back as he wrung his hands together in nervousness.“I called Social Services the night you arrived a few days ago and I told them to give you time to process your grief. Of course, they threatened to sue me for not handing you over in which I called my lawyer, told him the problem, and they’re dealing with it right now.” Peter swallowed, he didn’t mean to cause so much trouble for Mr. Stark. The teen opened his mouth to respond but before he got anything out, Tony continued. “And before you apologize profusely for being ‘too much trouble,’ you’re not, kid. Now, I want to know what you want to do.” Peters brows furrowed in confusion,  _ Tony was giving him a choice?  _ “Do you want to go into the system and live in a foster family or do you want to stay with me and I would be your temporary guardian?” Peter blinked,  _ what? _ “It would be difficult being spiderman in the first option, but if that's what you want, I’m sure you could find a way around it, you’re a smart kid.” Another blink from Peter was sent in Tony's direction,  _ the billionaire complimented him...him. _

“Uh...” Peter mumbled, his hands were now nervously being twisted in front of him as Peter opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. “I..” Tony crossed his arms as he waited, his rose tinted sunglasses rested on his nose as he stared down at Peter. _ Is Tony sure? Does the man actually want to be his temporary guardian? After all the shit Peter put himself and the billionaire through? Look at the chairs cushion! This is what it might be like, maybe even worse, if I stick around. This has...this has to be some sick joke, Mr. Stark must be getting ready to pull the rug out from underneath him, laugh in his face and say, “You should have seen your face!”  _

But, none of Peters thoughts happened. Slowly, without Tony noticing, Peter pinched the back of his hand tightly between his pointer finger and thumb.  _ This has got to be some dream, his mind has to be messing with him. Tony wants to be his temporary guardian after everything? he doesn’t deserve this.  _ He squeezed tighter, his thumbnail digging into his skin. He felt a sharp sting of pain come from his hand and a little bit of warm liquid on his thumb and forefinger. He knew without glancing down at his hand, he broke the skin and blood rose to the surface of the small wound. Tony deserved better, he deserved peace without Peter being a hassle and Peter didn’t want to go into the system, so maybe if he did, it would be sufficient punishment to himself for killing Aunt May and those five other people. 

His thumbnail dug deeper into the wound, Tony still hasn’t noticed. The small voice was back in his head again, _ no punishment is enough for killing them. You’re a murderer.  _

“Peter?” Tony said, he released his grip on his skin and looked at the older man. Tony looked at him with worried eyes and Peter wanted to pinch himself again. He couldn’t help but feel guilty for Tony worrying for him.  _ You’re causing people to worry, you need them to stop. You have to be okay for them to stop, and after your breakdown last night, you’re going to have to act harder. _ “I would say that you have all the time in the world to think about this, but you have until the end of the week because Social Services is suing me for kidnapping.” Peter blinked again, snapping out of his own thoughts at Tony’s statement, he was speechless and confused.“Soon the authorities are going to be banging on the towers door with a warrant to arrest me and God knows what awful crap they’re going to accuse me for other than this.” 

Peter blinked once more, what was he supposed to say to Mr. Stark being threatened by authorities to be arrested? There wasn’t a Hallmarks Card saying, “thanks for kidnapping me and nearly/getting arrested, I appreciate it although I don’t deserve your hospitality.” He felt blood trailing down the back of his hand, he could smell it too, thanks to his spider sense. Tony didn’t notice Peter cover his left hand with his right, but he did see the teen bounce from one foot to the other. He took that as a sign of anxiety, a sigh left Tony's mouth causing Peter to freeze from the noise.  _ Was Mr. Stark disappointed in him? Is he getting bored of talking to Peter? Is he getting bored of Peter? _

“I don’t want you to be pressured,” Tony said, “Don’t get too anxious because of this decision.” A breath of air Peter didn’t know he was holding escaped his body at the realization that Tony thought he was anxious of the decision rather than getting bored of him. His shoulders visibly relaxed and Tony couldn’t help but frown at the sight. This kid was anxious and Tony didn’t want him to have anxiety, it felt like he was the cause of it.

“Okay, Mr. Stark,” Peter finally said something, his voice had a tremble in it and he swallowed, making sure to steady himself before continuing. “Thank you.” Tony tilted his head a little bit to the side and stared at Peter. With the look Tony was sending Peter, he knew the man was thinking about what to say or just observing him. Silently, Peter looked away and Tony did so too, the billionaire clenched his jaw and nodded to himself as if he was confirming his own thoughts or suspicions. 

“Peter,” Tony said, his voice was gentle and Peter couldn’t help but tense at how soft his voice was. He felt his heart quicken as Tony didn’t say anything for a moment.  _ Did Tony notice the pinching? _ “Are you…” He trailed off, he wasn’t good at being gentle. “How do you feel?” Peter turned his attention to the man who offered to become his temporary guardian. “Your aunt died a few days ago, we still need to arrange a funeral and..” Tony's mouth was moving but Peter wasn’t listening, it felt like he was underwater and he was struggling swim to the surface for air.  _ Funeral. He was so goddamn selfish. His aunt was dead and she had yet to be buried or cremated. He was laying in bed, staring at a fucking wall for days and his aunt was in a morgue, her body was in a freezer. Oh god, he hasn’t seen her body yet. He doesn’t even know how bad her body looks. He’s been so fucking selfish.  _

Tony's fingers snap in front of Peter's face, the teen blinked and looked at the man with tears in his eyes. Tony's features softened into concern and Peter opened his mouth to reply, to tell him he’s alright, but instead a wail of grief escaped his mouth and he wrapped his arms around him. 

“Shhh,” Tony said quietly, he felt Peters grip tighten around his torso and he slowly put wrapped his own arms around the kid in a hug. “Do you want me to arrange the funeral for May?” Peter nodded into Tony's chest, snot and tears soaked onto the expensive suit. Tony's heart hurt for the kid, his own mind flashed a memory of his mother's funeral, he had to bury her alone. Swallowing, he let Peter pull away and wipe his tears with the back of his hand. Tears were still in his eyes as he looked at Tony and said,

“Thank you, Mr. Stark.”


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning, this chapter contains: Anxiety, grief, self harm, and panic attack.

The first thing Peter did was change into clean clothes after his second, or maybe it was his third, break down in Tony's arms. The billionaire sent the teen up to the room made for him and told the kid to change into less gross clothing. This lead to where Peter was currently standing once more in front of the expensive material. He stared at the silk shirts and pants, soft tops made of some type of faux animal fur. Not a price tag was to be seen on any of the items, only correct clothing sizes. Trying not to think of how guilty he felt, Peter took a pair of silk pants and a matching silk shirt off of the clothes hangers and changed into them. Despite feeling a small bit of comfort because he no longer wore sweaty clothes, he still felt like he didn’t deserve the treatment Tony was giving him.

Peter placed his clothes in the laundry basket and walked out of the room. Once he made his way to the elevator, he didn’t have to say anything for Friday to close the doors and quietly take him to the floor of the Common room. Tony was sitting on the couch, reading a magazine with Iron Man on the cover. The seat that Peter stained with his sweat earlier, was now clean and his coffee was still on the table, steam rising from it.  _ Did Tony make him a new cup? _ Peter wondered as he walked around the couch and into Tony's vision. The billionaire looked the kid up and down with arched eyebrow at the young man's taste of outfit.  

“Pajamas?” Tony asked, Peter looked down at the silk bottoms and shirt before looking back to Tony, his cheeks beginning to turn red from embarrassment. He was in his pajamas in front of Tony Stark. 

“I-I’ll change.” Peter stumbled out the words and turned around to go back to the room.  _ God, you’re so stupid, _ Peter thought as he pressed his thumb nail into the side of his pointer finger. 

“No, it’s fine.” Tony waved his hand in reassurance, stopping Peter from quickly walking out of the room in shame and instead he slowly turned around on his heels. Peter was unable to look at Mr. Stark due to the embarrassment and anxiety he felt, he could’ve swore his eyes burned holes into the floor from how intensely he was staring at it. It seemed like he couldn't get a grip on his feelings and look the inventor in the eyes, _ there goes your chance of convincing him you’re fine _ , he thought,  _ it’s not like you had one after last nights break down. _ His thumb nail no longer dug into his skin as he felt the man's eyes on him. Peters heart raced quickly as he continued to stare at the floor, his hands balling into fists to keep them from shaking. 

_ Oh god, he caught you pinching _ , he thought.  _ He’s going to take back the invite of staying with him and instead send you off to a foster home. He’s going to send you away, he’s going to send you away, he’s going to send you away, he’s going to send me away, he’s going to send- _

“Come sit, Peter.” Tony’s voice interrupted Peters thoughts, he snapped his head up and looked at Tony with tears in his wide brown eyes. Tony’s eyebrows scrunched together at the sight of Peter on the brink of crying. The teen walked to the couch and sat on the edge of it, two seat cushions between the two of them. Neither of them said anything as Peter stared down at his hands and Tony observed Peters features. The boy looked tired and lost, Tony could remember himself being in the boys shoes after the loss of his own parents. The silence between them broke when Tony asked, “How are you feeling, kid?” He sat next to the teen on the couch and leaned his arm against the back of the furniture, resting his head against his balled up fist. Peter shrugged as a response, his hands still forming fists, Tony frowned as he watched the teen unclench and clench his fists. “I want a verbal answer.” Tony said, his eyes trailed away from the teens hands and back to his face. 

Peter looked down at his hands and opened his mouth before closing it and opening it once more, his tongue darted out of his mouth and wet his lips. He reached for his cup of caffeine on the coffee table and blew into the steaming cup before taking a sip, it was hot still and it burnt his mouth but he didn’t care. The ceramic cup burnt his hand and he placed it gently back onto the table without spilling it. Tony waited for the answer quietly, he watched Peter look at the palm of his red hand. 

“Mr. Stark.” Peter said, almost in a whisper. Peter could no longer pretend to be alright, it was a tiring act and he was getting sick of playing it, he never did a good job at it anyways. It’s time to tell him the truth. “I lost my Aunt, my last living relative.” His voice broke off at the end and he took in a shuddering breath. “I’m..” He trailed off, his mind racing as the thought came back and this time instead of a small voice in the back of his mind it was screaming at him.  _ YOU HAVE TO CONVINCE HIM YOU ARE OKAY. _ He inhaled deeply and slowly released the air from his lungs. “I’m not okay.” He said, his voice a whisper and Tony nodded, not saying anything as Peter continued to stare at his clenched hands. “I’m not okay, mister Stark.” He paused, stifling a sob as he tried to refuse to cry again. God, he hated crying these last few days, it’s all he’s been doing. All he’s been feeling is sadness and guilt and it’s smothering him.

“Mr. Stark, I have to-” he cut himself off and took another deep breath to steady him. “I miss her so much, it hurts me. It hurts.” He really didn’t want to cry, he didn’t want Tony Stark to feel sorry for him and hold him as he released all his pent up feelings once again. Peter wanted to scream, he wanted to yell at the world that it wasn’t fair and it should’ve been him; but, instead, he stared down at his hands as his thumb dug into the skin of his pointer finger and drew blood. 

“I know, kid.” Tony said, he looked at the teen sadly. “Y’know what May would want though, right?” Peter knew, he knew what Aunt May would want and not want, he knew what was going to come out of Mr. Starks mouth; and as much as he hated it, he needed to hear the cliche line said in every book and movie by characters supporting other characters through their dealing of grief. “To live, to move on.” Peter’s thumbnail dug deeper into his skin and he took another shuddering breath. “I don’t want to push you, kid.” Tony said quietly, he didn’t dare place his hand on Peters knee in reassurance, he couldn’t help but feel at what he was going to say next might be something he’ll regret or overstep. But, maybe, it will help Peter, that’s all he could hope for.

“I know I said I was going to plan the funeral, but I think you need to help too, maybe this will bring you some closure.” Peter froze, his breath caught in his throat as Tony suggested for him to help plan his aunt's funeral. “You don’t have to help with all of it, just some.” Tony closed his eyes and he felt his heart pound against his chest, the memories of planning his parents flashed through his mind and he quickly shoved them away. Peter could feel a panic attack forming, his heart skipped several beats and black spots began to dance in his vision. His shaking hands clutched strands of his brown hair and his nails dug into his scalp deeply. His shoulders shook as he struggled to breathe, it felt like no air was filling his lungs and he was afraid he was going to die.  

“Just one thing, actually,” Tony whispered, regret and guilt felt like lead at the bottom of his stomach and he felt too afraid to open his eyes to see the kids face.  _ Peter needs closure _ , he thought, please let this bring him some form of closure. “Would you like your aunt buried or cremated?” Tony continued and opened his eyes to see Peters hunched over form. “Kid?” Tony said, he placed his hand on the teens back and Peter squeezed his eyes shut. “Kid, you gotta breathe.” Tony felt a anxiety attack beginning to arise and he hoped to the universe he wouldn’t let it take over him. Peter opened his mouth, willing for air to enter his lungs and inflate them, but it felt like his body wasn’t cooperating.  _ Oh God, he was back underneath the building Vulture collapsed on him.  _ “Peter?” Tony said as Peters eyes opened and he looked at the man he always admired since he was a kid. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as his body went limp and slumped forward. 

Tony caught Peter before the boys head could make contact with the coffee table, Peters unconscious body laid against Tony's side. Gently, Tony laid Peter on the couch as Friday recited Peters vitals to Tony. With a sigh, Tony picked up his and Peters cup of caffeine and sipped out of his own beverage. His hands shook as he slowly brought it away from his mouth and he walked to the kitchen attached to the room. He dumped his and Peters cup down the sink and grabbed a new glass, filling it with water before walking back into the living room and setting it on the table. Peter slowly opened his eyes, blinking a couple of times and his head turned to the side as a small groan left his mouth. He closed his eyes as he tried to remember what happened. 

“Don’t move, kid,” Tony said, he crouched down next to the couch and Peter opened his eyes, “You passed out.” Tony finished and Peter groaned in response, he slowly closed his eyes feeling too tired to be embarrassed. “It’s okay Peter, you didn’t worry me at all.” Tony said sarcastically and Peter blinked his eyes open, he stared at Stark with a frown and opened his mouth to apologize profusely but Tony cut him off. “I get it, Parker, just rest.” Tony stood up and pointed at the glass of water. “Drink this if you’re thirsty.” He turned around and left the room, he stood in the elevator quietly as the doors closed. 

“Sir, what floor would you like to go to?” Friday asked, Tony leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. 

“Work shop.” He said and Friday hummed as the elevator moved to the floor. Tony breathed in deeply through his nose and held it for eight seconds before slowly exhaling. 

“Sir?” Friday said, Tony raised his brow and opened his eyes, looking at the floor numbers counting each level it passes. “Mr. Parker seems to be processing his grief with difficulty. Might I recommend a therapist?” Tony sighed and the doors opened to the workshop, he walked through the doorway and to the worktable, picking up a custom made wrench gifted to him from Pepper and began working on a new addition to one of his Iron Man suits. He didn’t answer Fridays question and the AI didn’t push him to do so. After he twisted a bolt into place and set down the wrench onto the work table, he turned around and leaned against the surface. 

May’s body needed to be put to rest and he needed, no, wanted Peter to decide on whether to bury or cremate her. Peter needed to have closure and Tony knew the kid would eventually regret on not  helping to plan his aunt's funeral, whether it’s a small part or not. With a sigh, Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and said, “Friday, call Peter Parker and tell him to get his ass down to my workshop.”


End file.
